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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25266478">Detroit: Become CHOBITS</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trimitive/pseuds/Trimitive'>Trimitive</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Adorable Connor, Alternate Universe - Chobits, Can be read as a stand alone, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Chobits, M/M, Masturbation, Memory Loss, Oral Sex, Protective Hank Anderson, Romance, Sexual, very naughty, you don't need to know Chobits to read this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:27:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25266478</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trimitive/pseuds/Trimitive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Owning a private detective agency in 2038 is difficult when you want nothing to do with computers, let alone Androids. In a society where everyone has an Android by their side and most jobs can be done by Androids, Hank's struggling to keep his agency alive. It's only when he finds himself an Android thrown away in the trash that he begins to warm up to them, and perhaps also finds himself in one of the most complicated mysteries he's even investigated; Who is Connor, and what is a CHOBIT? </p><p>Note: You don't need to know a damn thing about CHOBITS to read this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elijah Kamski/RT600 "Chloe" Android(s), Hank Anderson/Connor, Markus/North (Detroit: Become Human)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Detroit: Become CHOBITS</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ok, but why hasn't this been done before? You don't need to know anything about CHOBITS to read this. It's just inspired by Chobits and follows that basic story line with some personal tweaks to make it work.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Just as I feared...</p><p>There's no one here either. </p><p>Everyone is inside with them. Being with them is like living a beautiful dream. </p><p>A beautiful dream that no one wants to wake up from. </p><p>They will grant your deepest wishes. </p><p>They will do whatever you ask. They will be whatever you want them to be.</p><p>They can do amazing things that you cannot.</p><p>But there is one thing they cannot do....</p><p>
  <em>They can never become people." </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <br/>
  <strong>Chapter 1: Scrap Metal</strong>
</p><p>It was another cold case. There were more and more of them these days, especially since Androids became the new life necessity. Covering one's own tracks was easier than ever when you could just make your own machine do your dirty work; they could even commit murder and and create an alibi if you had the right software coded. It was sick, but unfortunately that was the world they were living in these days....</p><p>So Hank had his work cut out for him. When he was younger he could bust out several cases a month; a shining prodigy they had called him in his prime. He had the nose of a blood hound, the wit of a demon, and the skill set that made veteran detectives cream their pants. Time moved on without him though, and now he was trying to make ends meet in a world that had little use for men who didn't have a good sense of technology. In fact... the world had little use for men in general. </p><p>Absolutely everything was taken care of by Androids and everyone had one. They did your taxes, cooked your food, organized your calendar, and they were slowly replacing old, run-down detectives like Hank. As a result, Hank's little detective agency wasn't much more than a scrub shack in downtown Detroit that could barely earn itself a roof that didn't drip God knows what from the run-down apartments upstairs. </p><p>Fortunately, the Detective did get enough work to pay the bills and keep his stomach decently full. He had just solved a homicide case that he had snatched up from mole in the DPD. He didn't have any interest working with the police, finding them useless and unethical in their practice. With enough bribing though, he was able to get some private deals and leads. The payout for this particular case would pay the next three months rent. </p><p>Hank loomed over his desk, ill lit by a humming lamp light. The smoke from his cigarette calmly twirled its way towards the ceiling-- cinders fell from its tip on messy stacks of paperwork cluttering his desk as he reviewed finances. His eyes were tired. He was so sick of numbers. </p><p>"Boss?" </p><p>Hank lifted a brow, momentarily glancing from the bills to catch the younger Detective from the corner of his eye. "What." More of an annoyance than a question. </p><p>"Paycheck. Now."</p><p>Hank paused. He took a particularly long drag from his cigarette before leaning back in his swivel chair. He sighed, the smoke exiting his lungs like bliss as he leaned to dig in one of the desk drawers to find his checkbook. A stack of papers collapsed to the floor in the process, their smacking noise drowned out by Hank's cussing. He finally scrambled to get a spot of the desk clear enough to begin writing out the check. "Gavin Reed," he muttered, signing the check over and holding it to his side absently for Gavin to snatch. </p><p>Snatch he did. Gavin quickly pocketed the check in his coat, grimacing at the piles of stained paper, take-out containers and beer bottles. "I must be the only shithead in Detroit who still has to walk to the bank to get their cut."</p><p>"Shut up," Hank growled, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache. He'd have to deal with the bills tomorrow....</p><p>"Why don't you just get an Android like everyone else?" Gavin scoffed. Hank made no reaction. "I know you don't like'em but literally any kind of computer could help keep the walls from falling in around you, old man." </p><p>Hank knew that. He didn't even have a basic computer.... He gave Gavin the only one he had in his possession because he hated the things. Emails, viruses, social media. He fucking hated all of it, it was just a distracting pain in the ass. Androids were even worse.... "I've been doing shit by hand my whole life. See no reason in changing that now." </p><p>Gavin shrugged. "Suit yourself." Which Hank knew actually meant, <em>'Ok, but I'm not picking you up off the floor when the agency fails.'</em> Gavin was Hank's only help, and the young Detective was only doing this part time anyway. Hank's private agency was far from anyone's first choice. He supposed he should be grateful Gavin was still even hanging around. Talent was rare, and Reed certainly had it. </p><p>Hank killed a few more hours in the office before throwing in the towel. No new cases, no new leads. He wasn't going to putter what pathetic seconds he had of his life left in a rotting business. He wouldn't deny he needed some help..., but an Android? Gavin must have been out of his mind. Glancing around the streets, you could barely tell who was an actual person and who was an Android anymore. Everyone seemed to have one hanging off their arm, watching their children, eating at restaurants with them. It was like people preferred hanging out with a piece of plastic more than another person these days. </p><p>Even if Hank caved and decided to get one, how the fuck was he supposed to afford one with his shit agency? He stopped, snow flakes dusting his grey hair as they danced down from the dark sky. His icy eyes turned to the display window of a Cyberlife Android shop, where several Androids sat displayed. New models with all the specs: Internet, lifelike anatomy and social integration, and complete and utter submission to humanity. At what point did humanity think it was ever okay to put a price on human life? Of course, trafficking was still a thing. Let's just do the next best thing and create something close enough, but not human enough for it to be troublesome or immoral. A living slave. Brand new and wrapped in a pretty box for a small price of fifty thousand dollars and maybe your soul. </p><p>Hank spit at the display before carrying on.</p><p>Maybe he was just old. Sure, most people would say fifty-four was prime, but he was so out of touch with society that he felt ancient. He would never be able to convince himself to buy one of those things. It didn't matter how much easier organizing shit would be, it was disgusting and-....</p><p>
  <strong>There was a body in the trash pile outside his apartment building.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Holy shit. </strong> </em>
</p><p>Hank sputtered, quickly rushing over to the tied up body strewn upon a pile of garbage bags. "Hey!" He called, already grabbing his phone from his pocket to dial 911 when he saw them: The distinctive ears of an Android sitting elegantly on both sides of the body's head.<br/>Hank put his phone away. It was just an Android, not an actual person. Thank God.... Hank's heart began to slow down to an even pace as he caught his breath. Curiously, Hank knelt down next to the body. It was a male model, naked, wrapped in a sheet and rope aside from its head cradled against its own shoulders. The Android ears almost looked like dog ears.... Not the weirdest he had ever seen. </p><p>Aside from it obviously being deactivated, it seemed in pretty good shape. Why would someone just throw out an expensive piece of merchandise like this? Fuck, even the old models could be refurbished and resold for thousands of dollars. Probably some loaded asshole who didn't know the value of a dollar.</p><p>Wait.... Thousands....</p><p>...Hank had an idea. </p><p>Carefully, the old Detective scooped his arms under the limp form of the computer. He braced himself, beginning to lift and having the breath all but punched out of him when he realized how heavy these things were. Oh God, would he be able to carry it all the way into his apartment. "Thank fuck I live on the first floor," Hank huffed as he waddled his way around the building, not noticing the small disc slip from the sheet's wrapping and crack on the concrete. </p><p>"Sumo! Sit!" Hank hollered as the large St. Bernard enthusiastically greeted him at the door as he did every day. Usually that wouldn't be a problem, but not while he was carrying what felt like three hundred pounds of wires and metal. Hank gracelessly dropped the Android on the living room floor, shaking the small apartment in its wake. Sumo curiously began to investigate, sniffing and slobbering over the sheets and face of the new, very very very interesting thing in the apartment before being promptly shooed away from the Detective. </p><p>Ok. No biggie. He had an Android in his apartment. It's not like he bought it, or stole it, or anything like that. It was in the garbage. Taking garbage wasn't technically stealing. He wasn't even keeping it. This was just to rake in a few extra dollars for the agency, nothing more. Once Hank caught his breath, he sat next to the Android on the floor, staring it up and down. Alright, time to see the damage. He began to carefully unwrap the rope and sheets from the computer's body, expecting to see wires popping out of it every which way or a detached limb tumble from the fabric, but no such thing happened. In fact, when the Android was fully unwrapped and displayed bare on the floor, it looked... dare he say... new? No blemishes, not dings or scrapes.... It was almost <em>unnerving</em> with how human it looked. He never really got up close and personal with these things, but he wasn't entirely sure they ever looked this realistic.</p><p>Hank ran his fingers over the freckled skin of the Android's arm. Soft.... It felt so real. There were even small, fine hairs along the synthetic skin. If it weren't for the dog-like ears acting as HUB ports, Hank would think it were a real person (he wouldn't think about how realistic the penis looked, he wouldn't do it, he was better than that). Maybe it wasn't damaged on the outside, but on the inside. Defective somehow. Maybe he'd get more money from a refurbisher with the shell in such good shape. The prospect of exchanging the Android for a pretty penny was very exciting, because Lord knew he needed the money. </p><p>Still. He needed to see if it worked before he handed it over to some tech worker. He wanted to make sure he wasn't going to get too screwed over-- almost everyone on the planet knew more about these things than he did.</p><p>"Okay," Hank psyched himself up. He took in a deep breath and grabbed the machine's arms, inspecting for some sort of button or code or... anything really. He poked and prodded, flipping the Android limply over again and again trying to find literally any indication of an activation button. He looked in its ears, its mouth, its eyes and eyelids.... He even poked the fake nipples and fake belly button. They sort of looked like buttons! </p><p>Was he fucking <em>stupid</em>? Sweat beaded down his forehead and into his beard as several hours of fruitless searching finally passed. Where the fuck could a switch or a bar code be? Did they really make these things so human that you couldn't just see where a start-up switch was? What if it was voice activated? Was this why it was thrown away?</p><p>Darkness filled the small apartment. <em>No...</em> no, it couldn't be....</p><p>Hank swallowed, eyes wandering down...<em> there</em>. Between the Android's legs. </p><p>
  <em>No, they couldn't have....</em>
</p><p>Although, he did recall overhearing someone mention that they kept informational pieces on parts of the body that couldn't typically be seen. That... that would make sense then. Still, what kind of sick fuck would design something that way? Was he just an old pervert for considering it? But he really did look everywhere else already. It's not like it was human, it was just a piece of plastic. It was no different than his coffee machine or toaster! He didn't feel weird touching the insides of those things, so why should be feel weird about this?</p><p>Ok... ok, he could do this.</p><p>"Sumo," Hank barked, the St. Bernard lifting off from its spot on the couch. Hank rose with a groan to lead the dog into another room and shut the door, as if the dog would somehow judge him for what he was about to do. </p><p>Hank sat down again, wrestling his nerves as he shuffled the limp Android against his chest. Just don't look, it would be fine.... </p><p>Hank supported the heavy machine up against him with one arm and used his other hand to spread a creamy thigh to the side. Taking a deep breath and looking up at the ceiling, he fumbled his hand down between the android's legs. First he felt around the artificial penis for anything that felt out of the ordinary. Other than it being particularly soft and malleable, there wasn't anything there (asides from some bumps that he could only imagine were more fake moles along the scrotum). His fingers went lower until they brushed against the little hole between his cheeks. "Ok..." Hank breathed evenly. This was the last place. After this, he'd give up. And maybe die. </p><p>As gently as he could manage, he crooked a finger inside of the Android's hole. He reached a ways in, more and more surprised by how deep he could actually reach his middle finger when he both felt and heard an audible<em> 'click!'</em> </p><p>Just like that, the Android sat straight up from Hank's lap, all but causing Hank to collapse back on to the floor. He watched, shocked and bewildered as the Android became animated, robotically scanning the dark living room with brown eyes that seemed to be adjusting. </p><p>Finally, the Android's eyes landed on Hank. It stared passively for a moment, its expression blank before whispering a quiet "Con...." </p><p>Hank stared back evenly. "...Con?" He repeated dumbly. </p><p>He didn't have much more time to think before the naked machine had tackled him to the floor, nestling itself on top of the older man and nuzzling its now warm face into his neck.</p><p>Fuck, what had he done.....</p>
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